


Just a Ghost Out Of His Grave

by Soldsoulpunk



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, But there will be fluff, Character Turned Into a Ghost, F/M, Ghosts, I am so sorry for this, M/M, References to Drugs, Suicide Attempt, it was running around my head screaming to get out.
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:53:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22011376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soldsoulpunk/pseuds/Soldsoulpunk
Summary: Richie can't cope with life after the events of the sistern. Life without his best friend, without Eddie. Everything is falling apart so he decides to do something drastic.. Something that brings Eddie to him, even from beyond the grave.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	1. The Incident

**Author's Note:**

> This chapter has very heavy references to drug and alcohol abuse. It also features slight descriptions of gore and attempted suicide. Reader discretion is advised.

Richie looked down the empty bottle in his hand and sighed. It had only been a month and everything had already gone to shit. He'd shown up drunk and high off his ass to the filming of his Netflix special. The producers understood, but recommended that he take some time off.. To heal from the loss of his 'best friend'. He hated when people called Eddie that. It was true, sure, but everything in him wanted to scream at them. _He was so much more than that!_ He thought, reading headline after headline. Speculations of a Derry murder cult that included himself and the rest of the losers came out. Myra Kasprak didn't want Richie at the funeral. Something she had made abundantly clear when he showed up to the cemetery with Bev. She rushed him like a fucking bull would rush a matador. It was raining, the ground was slick with mud and raindrops. She'd pushed him and he's fallen on his ass. Not that it would've taken much to push him over. He _was_ higher than a Cheech and Chong special, and had more alcohol in his system than a liquor store.. Much like now.. Much like the special.. Much like every day since they left Eddie behind.

“You killed my fucking husband.” He didn't remember much else besides those words. He remembered the sting that came with the venom. He didn't remember his reply, but Beverly had said it was something along the lines of “He may have been your husband, but I loved him more than you ever will.” He rolled his eyes when she'd told him. It certainly couldn't have been anything that eloquent or brave. It was more likely that he sat in the mud, hands covering his face as he sobbed about how much he loved Eddie. Which was true, he did love him. So much that his chest felt empty every moment he was alive. Right in the center, around the spot Eddie had been stabbed.. He just felt so hollow without him in the world.

The murder cult rumors, the scene at the funeral and the forced break from his work were nothing compared to the events that had unfolded at the Starbucks today. He'd just wanted some fucking coffee.. Why did people have to sit out and wait for him to come out of his house, just to ask him intrusive questions when he was very clearly going through something? Why did they have to call him such terrible names? Why did they have to attack him for loving someone who wasn't even alive anymore. He'd been able to stomach the questions and insults until someone mentioned him by name. Until someone asked him how long his gay affair with New York risk analysis and queer Edward Kaspbrak had been going on prior to the 'conveniently timed' death of the man. The fact that anyone would suggest that he murdered Eddie, his sweet, kind, mild mannered Eddie was enough to make Richie finally snap. He grabbed the 'journalist' by the hood jacket and threw them against a wall. His rage had clouded most of the altercation, but he remembered grabbing the mans voice recorder out of his hands and after throwing it to the ground, stomping on it until it was shattered in pieces on the concrete below him.

That was hours ago, he'd been bailed out of jail by his manager. He'd been brought home and the guy hadn't pressed charges.. Maybe he shouldn't have moved to Manhattan to be closer to Bev after all.. No where was safe, he was better off... well, dead. The thought had crossed his mind before now of course. But death, it was just such a scary thing. He'd seen how Eddie being murdered had hurt everyone, how would Richie choosing to end his life hurt them any less? Maybe they'd understand a little better. Maybe, if they knew it was planned out, it wouldn't be as painful. He squeezed his eyes shut, he could keep telling himself that all he wanted, he knew it wasn't true. Making that decision would hurt everyone so much more than they already were hurting. He saw what it had done to everyone after Stan died, he saw what it did to Patty at his funeral.. So why did it seem like the only option he had?

Richie stood up, breaking away from his spot on the sofa near the window. It was snowing outside. Eddie would've loved the snow if he had given himself a chance. Richie figured that he probably loved it because it gave him a chance to tell people just how fucking stupid they were for trying to drive to work on black ice.. He wanted Eddie to yell at him. To tell him he was a fucking moron for thinking about leaving the world without even trying to get along without him. He wanted Eddie to yell at him about anything.. Just as long as he could hear his voice again.

Richie stumbled into the kitchen and dropped the empty whiskey bottle in the sink. It clanged out into the empty apartment. He opened his medicine cabinet, the bottle of pills he'd been prescribed by his doctor sat there, a glowing neon testament to how big this lie had gotten. He'd told his doctor that he had sleep anxiety. It was a real thing, he'd looked it up.. That's how he knew he'd get prescribed sleeping pills if he pushed hard enough. So a few weeks after calling and talking to his therapist about it, he got the medication and decided that they'd stay in the cabinet until he decided what he wanted to do. And after today, after the call from his manager and the fight in the fucking Starbucks, he decided it was time.

Richie took the bottle and a beer into the living room. He sat down, turned on some music and typed out a text to Ben.. He didn't want Beverly to be the one he told.. she'd gotten so close to Richie again after the quarry.. After she caught him at the kidding bridge, carving away at the post again. Richie popped his beer open and threw back pill after pill until the world melted away.. It wasn't until he was about to slip into complete unconsciousness that he saw him. It was Eddie. He was standing in the hallway, arms crossed and scowling at Richie. His shirt was bloody and his face was scraped up. He looked just like he had in the Sistine just... less alive. His eyes were slightly glazed over and he had bruises. A few on his face and forehead, and some darker ones on his collarbone and neck. Richie tried to stand up to walk to him. Maybe this was heaven? Had he made it? If he had, why did Eddie look so fucked? Richie opened his mouth to speak and collapsed on the floor. The vision of damaged Eddie quickly sat down next to Richie's broken body on the floor. He was frowning and trying to grab at Richie. Richie just felt cold, he didn't care if it was Eddie or the end finally showing its face, all he knew was that this was it.

Except it wasn't.


	2. Why are you here?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie attempts to bond with the ghost of Eddie.

Richie didn't know what was happening, all he knew was that he had straps around his arms and there was a beeping sound in the background. He heard sniffling and whispers, who was it? Where had he heard that sound before? He listened intently, what was he hearing?

“I just, I shoulder seen this coming Ben.” More sniffles, a little crying and a soft shushing sound. It was Bev. Ben was inevitably consoling her. Richie fought to open his eyes. He looked to his right where the noise was coming from, his glasses were off, so all he could make out were fuzzy shapes. “W-where” He stopped, his throat burned when he tried to talk. The fuzzy shape with red hair jumped up and came into focus quickly. “Richie, sweetie.” Her voice broke, the other fuzzy shape, Ben, followed suit, wrapping an arm around her, and placing his free hand on Richie's shoulder. Bev leaned on the bed, grabbing Richie's hand gently, and pulling it to her lips. It was strange, she wasn't wearing any makeup.. She always wore makeup. Even at the funeral. Richie frowned as he kissed his hand. “Please don't scare us like that again.” She shook as she cried. Richie looked up and saw another figure standing in the door. “Who's that?” he whispered, but his voice still shook. Ben looked towards the door. “There's no one there buddy. It might be the meds.” He offered, but Richie had an aching feeling in his heart. He shook his head at Ben, it was Eddie, he'd recognize the silhouette anywhere. In this moment, remembering what Eddie had looked like in the apartment, he was thankful that he didn't have his glasses on.. He didn't want to see that with no alcohol in his system. The shape of Eddie moved towards his left side, Richie refused to look as he came into focus. He looked at Bev, who was now looking at him her with wide, watery blue eyes. He nodded, he wasn't sure what he was nodding at, but he did it anyways. He just wanted to sleep.

The next few days at the hospital were a blur. Eddie was there on his left side the whole time. Bill had walked through him at least once, Bev has complained about how cold it was when she sat next to him, and on one occasion, Richie had woken up with Eddie sitting on his bed. He wanted to ask what he was doing there, but he didn't want to scare him away. He didn't want him to go away. Despite still being bloodied, he looked almost better. The bruises were disappearing and his eyes were gaining a little more color every day. The stab wound remained intact for the most part. On the fourth day of monitoring (at Beverly and his sister's request) Richie had noticed the stab wound on Eddie had shrunk significantly.

Bill sat with Richie, playing cards and talking about his book. Richie just wanted him to go away. He loved Bill, but he needed a moment, just a moment alone with Eddie, he needed to talk to him. He felt bad for not acknowledging him.. He needed to say something. “Say, Bill, do you think you could go get us some jello? And by 'us' I mean I know that you hate the hospital jello, so get two and I'll eat them both.” Bill laughed and Richie managed to crack a smile. “Sure Rich, I'll get us some jello.” He stood up and started walking out of the room. “It's good to hear you attempt a joke again.” He said as he walked out of the room. "I've always been funnier than you Bill!" He called after the man. Richie waited for the door to close behind Bill before he straightened himself up and turned to Eddie who sat on the couch, fiddling with the strings on his jacket. Richie cleared his throat and Eddie looked up at him in surprise. He looked around the room and pointed at himself, turning his head to the side slightly. Richie gestured around the room confused “Who the fuck else would I be looking at dude?” He shook his head and reached up to run a hand though his hair. God knew it was a mess, but why was he trying to look good for a fucking ghost? Or guardian angel? Whatever.

“I don't know why you're here but you don't have to stay here. I'm okay, really.” He put his hands out in front of him, trying to demonstrate just how okay he was. Eddie smirked and raised an eyebrow. Richie could almost hear him say 'yeah fucking right trash mouth' which is absolutely what he would be saying if he could speak. “Alright, maybe I'm not okay, but that doesn't matter. You need to go dude. Cross over or whatever. Tell your mom I miss her.” Richie threw himself back against the bed and rolled his eyes. Eddie ran hand through his own hair and frowned. He got up and walked over to Richie, sitting on the edge of the bed. Richie looked over at him, tears in his eyes. “I just don't get it.” He sighed, his voice cracking slightly as the tears began to form in his eyes. Eddie reached out to him, but pulled his hand back when he did. “Why'd you have to die on me, man?” The tears spilled out of his eyes and down his cheeks. He reached up to wipe them away, but Eddie tried first. Richie gasped slightly at the feeling of the cold air on his skin. It wasn't quite a hand, but it wasn't quite air. It was what he had imagined a cloud might feel like.. Almost like walking though fog. There was a substance to Eddie's hand. He couldn't be sure, but it looked like Eddie was tearing up too. “There's so much I want to talk to you about, but I'm scared of what's going to happen if you try to talk to me. Can you even talk?” He looked at Eddie hesitantly. Eddie looked up at the ceiling, thinking. He shrugged in response. “You don't know.. Are you too scared to try it too?” Eddie nodded with a frown. Richie looked towards the door, expecting Bill to return any second. “I guess we'll just have to leave it at that then.”

Bill left shortly after Bev arrived. The nurses wouldn't let anyone stay in his room after visiting hours, so Bev stayed for dinner and gave him a quick kiss on the forehead before leaving. Richie was happy to be by himself. This was his last night of observation and then he was bound to have one of the Losers following him around like a lost puppy.

The doctors came in, checked on his vitals, made sure he'd eaten and left him to sleep for the night. He played like he was asleep for about twenty minutes until he was sure no one would be looking in on him for at least an hour. He opened his eyes, Eddie was sitting on the chair next to the door, looking out the window. The moonlight was shining into his room and reflected off the floor up towards Eddie, lending him an extra glow. His literal transparency was even more obvious as the moonlight literally shone through him.

“Hey, Eddie Spaghetti.” Richie whispered from his bed. Eddie looked towards the bed and smirked at him, raising an irritated eyebrow. He raised a hand in front of his face and shook it in front of his face towards Richie. “How many times do I have to fuckin tell you, blah blah blah I know.” Richie hissed and rolled his eyes. He sat up and gestured for Eddie to come sit on the bed with him. Eddie let out an inaudible huff and stood up, walking over to the bed and dropping himself down. Richie watched him adjust himself, like somehow, even though he was dead, he was still incredibly uncomfortable in a hospital. It didn't make sense to him. It's not like he could die again. He was already see through for Christs sake! “Listen.” He started softly “I know that you can't speak for whatever reason, but I have questions I have to get out there.” He wiggled his foot anxiously and Eddie nodded. “Do you remember dying?” He spat the question out before he had a chance to think about it. Eddie looked up at the ceiling, he was thinking again. He shrugged and raised his hand in front of him, pinching his fingers together to show Richie he only remembered a little bit.

Richie frowned, he didn't want Eddie to remember dying at all. He didn't want him remembering being in pain, or being hurt. “Did it hurt?” He whispered, his voice cracking slightly thinking about the event again. Eddie nodded immediately, his lips pulling down into a tight frown. Richie reached out towards him, offering a hand. Eddie tried to return the gesture, only to meet Richie's hand with a cold shadow. He had so many questions, but the most important on his mind had to be asked.

“Why are you following me around? Am I cursed to live with you because it's my fault you got killed?” He tried to laugh, but it just came out as a sob. “It's my fault.” He whispered and his head fell, he caught his face in his hands and cried softly. He felt the air around him grow cold, he looked up from his hands and Eddie was doing his best to wrap him in a hug. His hands not quite meeting skin, but not quite missing it either.

He sighed and looked at Eddie's transparent arm and cried more. He'd longed to be held like this by him for so long, but these weren't the right circumstances. He wanted to hold him, to kiss him and be with him. But that wasn't going to happen. Not while he was alive at least.


End file.
